Amethyst (45 page)

COLIN ENTERED THE
bedroom, careful to keep his expression neutral. "Will you come upstairs with me, love?"

Amy's reflection looked puzzled in the dressing table mirror. "Upstairs?" She folded the letter she'd just written to Aunt Elizabeth with the news of their wedding. "For three weeks you've been telling me it's dangerous up there. Besides, don't we need to leave for Cainewood?"

"Christmas Eve can wait a few minutes yet." Struggling to keep a smile off his face, he took her by the hand and led her down the corridor to the staircase.

She followed him up the steps. "When will the upper level be renovated?"

"I'm not sure. I've put all the renovations on hold. The farmstead is almost self-supporting, and then—"

He turned when he felt her stop. Her words came forced and quiet. "Colin, I have a trunk full of gold."

"So you do." He backed down a step, twisting his ring. "I promised you I wouldn't touch it."

"But—it's yours. Legally, it's yours." Her fingers trailed back and forth along the oak rail. "You…you'd have taken Priscilla's dowry, wouldn't you?"

Colin noticed the catch in her voice. It would kill her if he spent her gold. It would kill their marriage. Kill her love for him.

"Priscilla was different," he said carefully. "That was a business arrangement." He moved down another step to encircle her in his arms. "I love you," he said low. "We'll wait, see what happens. If you don't mind living like this for now—"

"I could live like this forever," she said quickly.

Very quickly, Colin thought. Much too quickly.

As he took her lips in a gentle kiss, a disturbing image of Lord Hobbs flashed in his head.

He didn't have forever.

AMY FOLLOWED COLIN
down the corridor, feeling troubled by his sudden change of temperament. What she'd seen in his eyes had worried her. He'd seemed so lighthearted when they'd started upstairs—what had happened to lower his spirits?

It was odd and disturbing to find that his state of mind affected hers. It seemed that if he wasn't happy, then she couldn't be, either.

Love was more complicated than she'd ever imagined.

His step lightened as he reached the end of the corridor. Despite his earlier warnings, she'd seen no rotting wood along the way, no holes in the floor. He stopped in front of a stout, arched oak door and slipped a key into the lock.

After it clicked open with a rusty screech, he took her hand and placed the key in her palm. The metal was warm, retaining his body heat. She closed her fingers around it and looked up at him.

"Go ahead. It's yours," he urged, indicating the door and whatever lay beyond.

The door squeaked a protest of disuse as she pushed it open. The smallish chamber had a carved marble fireplace. A long upholstered couch sat in the center, and there was a heavy, dark wooden desk that belonged to the previous century. But best of all were the books, multitudes of them, lining the walls from floor to ceiling.

"A library…"

Her mood suddenly lifted, her uneasiness flitting away as it tended to do in the bliss of being wed to Colin. If they really loved each other, it should be enough.

It
would
be enough.

"It's yours," Colin repeated. "Your own place, like the study is mine. Though I'm hoping you'll let me in now and then. To borrow a book, you know."

He winked at Amy, but she only smiled faintly at his humor. She moved to the windows and gazed down into Hidden Court. The plants were mostly dead from the cold and last month's brief snow, but it would be lovely come spring. And the little library was perfect; she could already imagine herself curled up before the fire with a stack of books by her side.

"Do you like it?" From behind her, Colin's voice sounded warm and pleased, as though he knew her answer. It flowed over and around her, making her body hum with contentment and the physical need for him that always lingered just below the surface.

She turned to face him. "It's the most wonderful thing anyone's ever given me. Well, maybe except for my ring."

"We'll furnish it however you like. Benchley cleaned it for me. I don't know about the books—they probably haven't been disturbed in decades."

She wandered to the bookcases and ran a finger down the dark green leather spine of one volume. Her fingertip came away smudged, leaving the green stripe noticeably brighter than the rest of the cover. But it didn't matter; cleaning and organizing the books would be a joyful endeavor.

She'd felt rather useless as a countess these past three weeks.

"It's amazing," she said, looking back to Colin. Winter sun streamed through the windows and seemed to create a halo around him, swimming with brilliant dust motes from the recently swept room.

His lips curved in a wry smile, and he gave an elegant shrug. "I had nothing else to give you for Christmas."

Amy's heart plunged. "Oh, Colin, I have nothing for
you
. And this—this"—she gestured helplessly—"it's so
much
."

Colin moved to enclose her in his warm, strong arms. His face mere inches away, she lost herself in his emerald gaze. "I need no gift from you, love," he said, his voice low and slightly rough. "You're my Christmas present. You're all I want and more than I deserve. Besides, how could you get me anything? I haven't left you alone for a heartbeat."

He grinned, and it had a devastating effect on Amy's insides. Suddenly, she realized she did have a gift for him. She smiled to herself. An idea flickered in her brain. A mischievous Christmas prank.

She'd need Kendra's help…

He kissed her then, his mouth hot and demanding on hers, and her fledgling plans drifted away, replaced, as always, by the overwhelming feelings Colin engendered with his slightest touch.

His touch now was by no means slight. They made love on the couch—"christening" her room, as Colin put it devilishly, and disturbing years of accumulated dust in the process.

Afterward, Colin ran a fingertip down the bridge of her nose, as she'd done to the book. Laughing, he called for a bath, and they moved downstairs to wash each other in their enormous tub. Benchley had the horses hitched and had been waiting a good half-hour by the time they emerged and climbed into the carriage to make their way to Cainewood.

The road was hard and dry today, and their carriage barreled toward Cainewood in record time. Besides clothing for a short stay, their trunks had small packages tucked inside—Christmas gifts of jewelry they'd chosen the night before. Amy's heart galloped with excitement at the thought of everyone's pleasure in their gifts, especially the surprise she was planning for Colin.

Before she knew it they were in the village, knocking on the door to Clarice Bradford's whitewashed cottage. Little Mary came to answer, Clarice at her heels. The child looked well fed and pink cheeked, and with a whoop of joy she threw herself into Amy's arms.

"Oh, my lady—I mean, Amy! I didn't know if I'd ever see you again!"

Amy knelt to return the embrace, then pulled back. The girl's big blue eyes sparkled with happiness, and not just at seeing her old friend. She was content here with Clarice—the two had needed each other.

Just as she and Colin had been meant to be together.

"I
am
a lady now, Mary. Can you believe it? I've married Lord Cainewood's brother. Do you remember him?" She rose and put her arm around Colin's waist.

"'Course I 'member him." Mary tilted her head back to look up at him. "You saved me so I could be Mama's little girl."

Amy had to jump to the side when the child launched herself at him, leaping high, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. "Oh, my lord, thank you!"

"I cannot find the words to tell you how grateful I am." Clarice bowed her head and bobbed a curtsy. She reached for her daughter, but Colin shifted Mary to his hip, supporting her with one arm while he gave Clarice's hand a quick squeeze.

"It was my pleasure." He smiled at Mary, brushed blond ringlets from her face, touched her little nose with one long finger. "I'm delighted to see Mary so happy."

"No more delighted than I am to have her." Clarice reached again, and this time Colin handed Mary over. "Thank you, my lord." She cradled her daughter tight, tears brightening her gray eyes.

"I brought you something, Mary." Amy held out a tiny package wrapped in bright cloth and tied with a pink ribbon. "For Christmas."

"For me?" Mary's mouth dropped open in a little O. "What is it?"

"Open it and see."

Clarice set her down, and she fumbled with the ribbon until Colin took it and untied it for her. The cloth fell open in his hand, and Mary gasped.

"Is it really for me?" Without waiting for an answer, she reached for the sterling silver locket and brought it to her lips. "Oh, my lady, thank you!"

Amy had strung it on a narrow black ribbon. Clarice eased Mary's hand from her mouth and turned her to tie it around her neck. "A heart." She smiled at Amy. "Mary loves hearts. And it's engraved so prettily. It's lovely, my lady."

"I made it a long time ago." Amy took the pink ribbon from Colin and tied it in Mary's curls. "When I was yet a girl in London."

"I have something to give you, too." Mary dashed into the cottage.

Clarice spread her hands in question, but Mary was back in a moment, holding forth a scrap of paper. "For you," she said, handing it to Amy.

Tears pricked the back of Amy's lids as she gazed at the picture Mary had drawn. The cottage. A smiling sun. And two stick figures with a crooked heart between them. "Surely your mama would like to keep this."

"You keep it," Clarice said simply.

Amy bent to gave Mary a heartfelt hug. "I'll treasure it always."

Thank you
, Clarice mouthed with a gentle smile. "Will you come in and share some Christmas cake?"

"I could use some sustenance," Colin declared, and they all laughed.

BACK IN THEIR CARRIAGE
on the way to the castle, Amy leaned across to take Colin's hands. "Wasn't that wonderful?"

"Yes, it was delicious. I was famished."

"You and your stomach." Giggling, she tried to pull her hands back, but he held them tight. "I meant Mary, and how happy she is."

"Oh," he said with an innocent grin. He squeezed her fingers and arched one dark brow. "I'm hoping you'll give me a little girl just like Mary."

She looked pointedly as his dark head, then freed her hands to sit back and lift a hank of her own ebony hair. "I think not, no matter how hard I tried."

Colin laughed. "I didn't mean blond; I meant sweet. Surely you can give me a sweet daughter? We'll have to work on it more often."

"Haven't we been?" Amy mused with a secretive smile.

As they pulled through the gatehouse and onto Cainewood's private road, he grumbled under his breath, "So much for working on it."

"Pardon me?"

He reached to take Amy's hand and pull her onto his lap. "Our days of solitude are over—not to mention our nights."

Amy laughed. "It's not so bad as all that! Surely we'll have time alone together. And the family…"

Amy was very much looking forward to spending time with her new family.

"The family. The loud, boisterous, meddlesome, teasing…" He swept the hair off the nape of her neck and bent his head to kiss her there with each word. "Argumentative, childish, outspoken, pigheaded—"

Amy turned on his lap. She touched her mouth to his, just barely, so he could feel her lips move. "Affectionate, generous, enthusiastic." She kissed him lightly. "Playful, thoughtful,
alive
." Another kiss, more forceful. "Intelligent, lovable—"

Colin pulled back in mock surprise. "Good heavens, are we as wonderful as all that?"

"Well,
they
are. I'm not so sure about you." The carriage wheels clattered over the drawbridge, and Amy leaned back to part the curtains as they passed through the barbican and into the quadrangle. "Oh, Colin,
look
."

All around the quadrangle, garlands of ivy graced the ancient walls. A large red bow hung over each door and window, the swagged ends wound with holly and laurel.